Creeping Death
by Outlaw Volunteer
Summary: Their plane destroyed...all methods of communication inoperable...trapped on Ebullient Isle... But that's not what has the volunteers on edge. A mysterious killer stalks Maidenly Manor's halls, slaying anything with a pulse. But why? Who IS this killer? Will they be stopped before it's too late? Watch your back - the world is TOO quiet here...
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** **Whazzup?! :) So I woke up from a really weird dream in early January 2017, and after lying in bed for about fifteen, twenty minutes thinking about where it could've gone,** _ **this**_ **li'l monster came to be. I ain't really a horror fan, but I figured, 'Shit, why not? I'll only fail if I don't try.' So…yeah, this's my first horror fic. Hope y'all likey likey! ;) \m/**

 **Disclaimer:** **Me no own ASOUE. And the title of this fic is actually the name of a Metallica song, so just to be extra safe, they own the title.**

 _ **WARNING! RATED M FOR:**_ _ **BLOOD & GORE, VIOLENCE, LANGUAGE, AND SEXUAL CONTENT**_

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 _ **Creeping Death**_

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Chapter 1  
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Him…her… _together_ …across the aisle…from _her_. She couldn't believe her luck. With a groan, Violet leaned back in her seat and scowled at the ceiling. "Are we there yet?" she snarled. What she wouldn't give to be _flying_ the plane rather than riding coach next to him and _that_ thing… _whatever_ she was.

"Almost," Quigley said with that wisecracking crooked smile of his. "The pilot said it'd be another fifteen minutes or so."

"That's what they said fifteen minutes ago," Violet told him. "I can't _do_ this anymore."

"Sure you can, Violet. You can do _anything_ ," Quigley said, a blush creeping into his cheeks.

Violet's eyebrows rose incredulously.

Quigley tipped his head, flashing her his trademark devilish grin. She'd fall under his spell sooner or later. This wasn't his first rodeo with her pessimism.

"Thanks," Violet said finally, blushing. She knew better than to give him _that_ look. For years she couldn't understand why he wasn't swayed by her lack of faith like most people were. How he could be so optimistic in a life as dark as hers was beyond her. But nevertheless, she was grateful for his cheerleading efforts.

Quigley's smile widened before he wrapped his arm around her and pulled her close to him. With her head now resting on his right shoulder, he couldn't help but wonder what he'd do without her. She was his Lavender Lighthouse on a dark, stormy Lake Lachrymose, and it was because of her that he hadn't shipwrecked already. If that light went out… He shuddered at the very thought.

Duncan squinted down at them, his blood boiling with jealousy. He'd been spying on them for awhile now, wondering why she'd picked _him_ of all people. Quigley wasn't smart–––for every F he got, _he_ had five A's. Quigley wasn't mature–––he had a smarmy comeback for almost everything, _he_ always turned the other cheek. Quigley wasn't organized–––his room was always a mess, _his_ was always spotless, not a thing out of place. Quigley was a reckless idiot, _he_ was a sophisticated gentleman. Why she settled for _him,_ he never understood. "Ugh, I'm so _bored_ ," he complained.

To his excitement, Violet took the bait and looked around at him, but to his dismay, Quigley did the same.

"Us, too," Violet agreed.

"You finish your _Daily Punctilio_ article?" Quigley asked.

"Yeah, an hour ago," Duncan said, forcing himself to play nice with his younger brother. "Revised it three times… _Should_ get the Baudelaires off the hook. I'll publish it when we get back from Maidenly Manor. Why are we going again?"

"V.F.D. meeting," Violet answered. "A day to share our research with the other volunteers."

"Oh," Duncan nodded in acknowledgement. "How's your new invention coming? Can I try it out?" he asked eagerly.

Violet chuckled, flattered. "No, not yet. It's almost done, though. I'll let you try it out when I finish."

Quigley stifled a laugh.

Violet and Duncan looked at him. "What?" she asked.

"When you finish," Quigley repeated with a mile-wide grin.

Her cheeks now burning, Violet burst out giggling, facepalming herself while Duncan rolled his eyes irritably. "Oh grow up, Quigley!" he snapped. His brother was _so_ immature! …But, the thought of Violet finishing _did_ give him something to think about in the shower tonight…

Quigley kept snickering, his face flushing an impressive shade of red.

With a growl, Duncan flopped back down in his seat. He looked to his left, surprised someone was sitting next to him this whole time. "You okay, Isadora?" he asked, softening up. "You're awful quiet."

"Hm?" Isadora said, finally peeling her eyes off the window to look at him.

Duncan flinched. Never had he seen his sister's eyes so red before…well, not since the fire. But that was nine years ago. "Oh my God, what's wrong?"

"Nothing," Isadora replied, shaking her head. "I was up all night last night. Couldn't sleep."

"Oh…" Duncan said, mulling over her explanation.

Suddenly, laughs filled the plane and Quigley leaned forward to look at the couple sitting across from him and Violet. "Hey," he called. "What's so funny?"

Klaus and Fiona looked at him, grins still on their faces. "Just an inside joke, Duncan," Fiona explained.

Quigley flinched. " _Duncan?_ I'm Quigley. You got me confused with the good twin back there," he said, jerking his thumb back at his brother.

"Hey, don't you _dare_ confuse me with _him_!" Duncan barked, offended.

"Sorry," Fiona apologized, shrugging. "I can _never_ tell you two apart."

"'Donuts' and 'douchebag' both begin with D," Quigley explained with faux eloquence, trying to emulate the poetess directly behind him. "And he be the idiot behind me."

Violet and Klaus laughed at his improvised couplet and Duncan rolled his eyes again. "Shut up, Quigley!" he scowled at him.

"Shut up, Quigley!" Quigley mimicked in a soft, high-pitched voice, and Violet shook her head, chuckling.

"I'm serious!" Duncan said louder, springing to his feet.

"I'm serious!" Quigley egged on, grinning at him.

" _Quigley!_ " Duncan roared, shoving him, and the other volunteers turned their attention to the center of the plane.

" _Hey!_ " Quigley bellowed, his demeanor doing a one-eighty. "Don't shove me!"

"Make me!" Duncan shot back.

Quigley was about to jump up and put him in a headlock like he always did, but to Duncan's surprise, he remained seated, glaring at him threateningly instead. Without another word, he turned back around in his seat and remained silent.

Duncan squinted ominously at him before following suit.

"Attention, volunteers," the loudspeakers above them crackled. "Please fasten your seat belts, we're about to land. For your safety, don't unfasten them until we give the okay. Again, thank you for your cooperation, and the world is quiet here."

 _Oh, thank God,_ Violet thought, relieved. There _wasn't_ going to be a bloodbath on the plane after all–––good.

"Do I _have_ to?" Quigley complained jokingly to Violet. "What if I don't _wanna_ make it off this plane alive?"

 _I can arrange that,_ Duncan thought.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N:** **Hiya everybody...sorry for keeping you guys waiting another month or so. My grandma passed away mid March...on my** ** _birthday_** **of all days and it's been** ** _hell_** **trying to find it in me to write... But, at last, I've finally gotten my mojo back. Hope you guys enjoy! But before we begin, gotta thank all my awesome reviewers out there:** _Guest_ **. You rock, man! :)**

 **.**

 _Guest_ _––– Thanks! :) This's my first try at horror, so forgive me if it's a li'l crappy. I'm trying to challenge myself by writing stuff out of my element every now and then. I hope you enjoy it nonetheless, though! ^_^ Thanks again for the feedback. It's always appreciated. ;)_

 **.**

 **Disclaimer:** **Me no own ASOUE. Just an obsessed fangirl. ;) \m/**

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"Thank you. Thank you. Thanks again," the pilot said with a warm smile as each volunteer passed by him and headed down the steps to the rickety, rotting dock.

Klaus and Fiona headed up the dock with the others, taking in their surroundings. The dock was hanging on to a cracked, overgrown sidewalk for dear life, as if the ocean were going to rip it away from the island against its will. And up and down the faded, pothole-polka-dotted street were buildings of all shapes and sizes, swaying in the damp wind together like a sullen flash mob, their windows either shattered, boarded, or dusty.

A bark-like snort slipped Fiona's lips. "Ebullient Isle my ass," she said, and Klaus giggled.

"I love you," he drawled dreamily, lost in her sarcastic, dark eyes. Ever since they'd reunited at HQ a couple years ago, he knew he'd found his soulmate. He didn't care that she betrayed him anymore. He was _way_ over that. Besides, her motive was logical, perfectly understandable–––he'd have done the same for Violet and Sunny.

Fiona cocked an eyebrow at him, unconvinced. "You're drunk."

Klaus laughed, his cheeks on fire. Intelligent, tough-as-nails, _and_ hilarious? She was the whole package…and with that fat expensive rock on her left hand, she was all _his_. Finally, after nine years of Hell on Earth, things were starting to go right… _his_ way. And for once, he was actually _happy_ to be alive. "No, I'm not," he replied. "I'm perfectly sober."

"After how much you drank at the HQ party last night, I'm surprised you are," Fiona said with a smile.

"I didn't drink _that_ much," Klaus protested coolly. "Just enough to outdrink Sam MacMiller."

"He drinks like a fish, it takes a _lot_ for _him_ to get drunk. And since you outdrank _him_ , I'm surprised you're still alive and walking around without whining about a hangover."

Klaus grinned. To be honest, his head was _splitting_ , ready to explode, but he never dared show it. Of course, Fiona told him last night that he was going to regret it in the morning, but his spiteful pride never turned down a bet to her logic. She was going to lose this bet, and he was going to make sure of it. "'Cause I'm magic," he told her quietly, leaning in to her.

Fiona rolled her eyes, a shiver racing down her spine. Although she didn't admit it, it drove her crazy when his voice deepened that many octaves. Hell, it took everything in her power not to jump him right now in the middle of the dock he had her so wound up. And he knew she wouldn't be afraid to, either. "Whatever," she snorted.

"You know you want me," Klaus slid in front of her and gestured to himself.

"Yeah…to knock it off," Fiona said with a wry smile.

"You said 'up' wrong."

"I'll say 'up' however I want," Fiona shot back playfully, hands on her hips.

Klaus beamed devilishly. He just couldn't one-up her in a conversation, end of discussion. No matter how much he thought he could, it wasn't going to happen. "What was that thing my father said? Happy wife, happy life?"

"That's right. And if she's not, watch out."

Klaus nodded in agreement, then took her hand in his and they continued down the dock in content silence.

Violet, Quigley, Duncan, and Isadora followed behind them, Violet stabbing Fiona in the back with a dissatisfied squint. Oh, if only looks _could_ kill…

"That's gotta be rough," Quigley remarked, catching her in the act.

Violet looked at him, puzzled. "Hm?"

He nodded at Fiona. "Them married."

"Ugh, don't remind me," Violet sighed tiredly. "I still have nightmares about it."

Duncan's ears perked up. "You can sleep in my room tonight if you want," he offered immediately.

Violet chuckled. "Thanks," she said gratefully. "But I'm good. Gonna be inventing most of the night anyway. Don't wanna keep either of you up."

Duncan smiled. Never was she an inconvenience. Heck, he'd stay up as long as she wanted him to if she offered. "Can I watch?"

Violet shrugged. "If you want. It's gonna be pretty boring though. Just gonna put the finishing touches on it."

"That ain't noisy at all," Quigley said. "You _never_ bother us, even if I _was_ sleeping."

"That's true. He's a heavy sleeper," Duncan agreed, nodding. "One night before the fire I went to the bathroom, tripped and knocked over one of our big vases, shattered and woke everybody up. Not him, though. He was out like a light."

" _See?_ " Quigley looked at Violet. "Not everything's _my_ fault."

"Oh, bite me, Quigley," Duncan growled. " _You_ were the reason we couldn't go into the library for a week!"

"Hey, I didn't know those books were off limits," Quigley shot back. "Mother and Father didn't hang a sign up that said, 'Hey Quigley, don't read these, they're off limits.'"

"So? They were hidden behind a top row of books!" Duncan pointed out heatedly. "If Mother and Father didn't mind us reading them they wouldn't have hidden them!"

"Yeah? Well, _I_ never broke a thousand dollar vase from Mumbai by tripping over my feet like a dork!" Quigley retorted.

"Oh I'm sorry, I forgot money is more important than someone else's _privacy_!"

Quigley's eyes flickered, his upper lip stiffening. His hands had balled into tight fists and were ready to fly, but when he caught the nervous eye of his beloved, his glare softened at once and he remembered his assignment. He squinted darkly at his brother before dropping the subject and buttoning up for good.

Duncan flinched. That was the _second_ time today his brother refrained from putting him in a headlock. Quigley _never_ hesitated to put him in one when he'd had enough. What possessed him to take the high road all of a sudden?

Violet felt her stomach tying itself into Devil's Tongue knots at the hostility in the air. Why was it that every time the three of them were together Quigley and Duncan always got into it? …Well, whatever the reason was, it was getting old… _and_ making her uneasy. Quickly, she racked her brain for a harmless topic to take their minds off each other. "So, where _is_ Maidenly Manor?" she asked, looking up and down the ghost town's street. Not a building in sight looked worthy of the name, and just behind the town, up the shallow hill, was one of the vastest, greenest forests she'd ever seen.

To her relief, Quigley and Duncan looked with her. "I don't know," Quigley said. "Place looks pretty dead to me."

"It's probably hidden," Duncan speculated. "It's one of the few safe places we have left, and I bet the volunteers don't want our enemies finding out where it is."

"Oh…never thought of that," Violet said.

"The world is quiet _here_ , volunteers," a middle-aged man greeted from the driver's seat of a long, long trolley when they reached the sidewalk. "I'm Mason, your chauffeur to Maidenly Manor. Climb aboard, make yourselves comfy. Should be there in about ten, fifteen minutes."

Obediently, everybody did as told.

"That everybody?" Mason asked over the intercom a couple minutes later, looking up in the mirror at his passengers.

The volunteers looked all around them. "Yes sir, Mason!" a tall, bearded volunteer called with a smile. "Anchors aweigh!"

Mason returned the gesture along with a playful salute. "Aye aye, Captain Luke." Slowly, the trolley began to roll forward and chug up the hill.

Resting her head on her hand, Fiona looked out at the scenery, scanning the woods for any sign of her specialty. After all the chaos that happened last night she was definitely craving her some fungi to dissect and study. Well, it was either that or dissect Violet and see why she hated her so much. But then again, she didn't major in biology…not in _human_ biology, anyway.

"Hey," Klaus said, nudging her.

Fiona looked at him. "Hey," she replied, then looked back out at the woods.

Klaus's face scrunched. "You okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," Fiona said, almost hurriedly.

"You don't sound it."

Fiona sighed. He wasn't going to let this go, she just knew. "I'm just thinking about last night is all."

"Look, Violet didn't mean–––"

"No, it's not her, it's…something else," Fiona explained, then looked down at her lap with a disheartened smirk. "Last night _after_ that, I was just about to jump in the shower when I found 'Dead Woman Showering' written on the mirror."

Klaus blinked at her, dazed.

Fiona sighed tiredly. "The _mirror_ , Klaus."

Klaus snapped out of his trance. "Oh yeah, sorry, that's terrible," he apologized quickly, then smiled sheepishly. Seeing how convinced she was, he decided to try again, but with more sincerity. "Who did it? Do you know?"

"Katey Brazz," Fiona answered immediately, looking back at the woods, an inferno raging in her eyes.

"Wow…that was quick," Klaus acknowledged, treading as lightly as he could. Fiona was a big marshmallow, the best one he ever tasted, but when someone crossed the line… "How'd you know it was her?"

"I'd recognize her handwriting _anywhere_ ," Fiona growled chillingly, shaking her head slowly, surprised half the forest wasn't burning down already. "Between her and Violet I don't know who's worse."

"Violet's very protective of me," Klaus explained with a shrug.

"I never noticed," Fiona glanced at him. "Why does she hate me so much? She ever tell you?"

Klaus shrugged again. "My guess is when you joined Count Olaf and Esmé that one time. To be with your brother."

Fiona groaned as she leaned back in her seat and glared at the ceiling. "She's _still_ not over that?" she said testily.

" _I_ am," Klaus said at once. "Violet's trust is worse than mine, and it's been broken since the fire."

"Well, what can I do to show her I'm sorry? Nothing I do seems to work."

Klaus's brow furrowed in thought. "Honestly? I don't know. Violet may never forgive you, but that doesn't matter. You're married to _me_ , not her."

"Technically, I am…if you think about it," Fiona pointed out.

"And if your brother and stepfather were still alive, I'd be a good husband to them, too."

Fiona rolled her eyes playfully, but Klaus could feel that she still wasn't over what happened to the two a couple years ago. Between that and half the V.F.D. headquarters harassing her, he was surprised at how well she was handling it. Sure, she'd let an insult or two slip now and then, but other than that, she took it like a champ. And for that, he was extremely proud of her. "I know you would." She looked back out the window. If only she knew how to end this nightmare for good… What she _wouldn't_ do to end this nightmare for good…

* * *

/

* * *

"A, it's M. The volunteers are here," Mason spoke into an intercom fastened just above an elegant doorbell.

"Thank you, Mason," a feeble voice wheezed back.

Mason looked around at the group of volunteers with a smile. "Enjoy your stay, everyone. Mason out." With that, he tipped his hat and walked down the stairs back to his trolley.

Violet, Klaus, and the others' eyebrows rose at the magnificence of the front doors. They didn't have a ruler on them, but to their guess the carved mahogany doors must have been twenty feet tall at the least, if not more.

 _Wow_ , Klaus thought, his eyebrows rising. He looked over at Violet. "Think you could invent something to open these doors without pulling your arm outta its socket?"

"Challenge accepted," Violet replied, smiling slyly.

Just then, one of the doors creaked open to reveal a butler whose face had so many wrinkles that they could've sworn a shar pei had come to greet them in formal attire. "Ahh, hello there," he said with a cordial smile, and they recognized him to be the one Mason was talking with over the intercom. "Come in, come in."

Each volunteer wiped their feet on the elegant welcome mat before heading inside after him. The group of a hundred looked around, marveling its breathtaking decor. Why, it was so enormous that King Kong and Godzilla could bunk there without worrying about breaking anything.

"It's beautiful," Violet complimented, a smile spreading across her face.

"Yeah…reminds me of our home." Klaus agreed, looking up at the thirty foot, diamond-encrusted chandelier dangling over the foyer.

"Well, our home is your home, volunteers, if ever you need one, whether temporary or permanent. I'm Abe by the way, but everybody calls me A." The butler turned around on his heel to face them. "Well, I won't hold you guys up. Although I will say the meeting is at eight o'clock sharp, and dinner is at six o'clock sharp in the dining room, which is this room right here." He gestured to the pair of polished double doors directly behind him. "See you then." With one final smile, he turned and strode down the hall.

"So where to?" Klaus asked, turning to look at his sister, his soulmate, and the Quagmires.

"Well, I'm off to finish Edison," Violet said. "Should have him done by dinner. Maybe he could help set the table tonight."

"And we're going to watch her," Quigley added, nodding at Duncan.

"I'm going to the woods. See if I can find some reishi," Fiona said with a shrug.

"Mind if I tag along?" Klaus tipped his head curiously.

"I'd mind if you didn't," Fiona told him with a crooked smile.

Klaus returned the gesture, then looked at Isadora questioningly. "Isadora?"

Isadora was silent, staring intently down at the floor, as if it would disappear if she took her eyes off it.

"Sis?" Quigley nudged her.

Isadora jumped and looked at him. "Hm?"

"Where are you gonna be?" Klaus repeated.

"Oh, um…" Isadora flushed, embarrassed as all eyes fell on her. She'd been so wrapped up in her own little world that she didn't really think about her plans for the afternoon. "Uh…I guess I'll, uh…go watch Violet," she managed to stutter.

"Alright. We'll see you guys at dinner," Klaus nodded at Violet.

"Well, that's rude," came a mild sneer from behind. "Not going to watch Violet finish another _mind-blowing_ invention of hers."

Fiona's eyes flickered. She knew _that_ voice anywhere. She and Klaus whirled around to find a slim siren about their age smiling wryly at them. "No, what's rude is butting into somebody else's conversation," she retorted, balling her fists.

"Touché," the girl said with a flip of her long, radiant red hair. "I'm impressed, Fiona. Your mind's still sharp as ever even _after_ those goons scrambled it."

Fiona's upper lip curled into a snarl, her blood beginning to boil. She was going to bring _this_ up again?

"But, I can't give you _all_ the credit," the girl continued. "If _I_ hadn't have come to save the day, you'd be blubbering like a caveman." Her vindictive green eyes wandered over to Klaus. "What do you see in her?"

Klaus opened his mouth to speak, but Fiona beat him to the punch (almost literally). "That's the wrong question," she growled. "The right one would be 'Why am I still trying to steal another woman's man? I guess I don't value my life very much.'"

The girl threw her head back, laughing.

"You think this's funny?" Fiona snapped, getting in her face.

"Funny? I think it's _hilarious_. Dramatic irony anyone?" The girl laughed again before leaning in to Fiona. "If _anybody_ deserves to be Mrs. Klaus Baudelaire, it's _me_."

" _You?_ " Fiona snorted with an amused smirk. "Enlighten me, _please_."

"I wasn't the one who betrayed him when he needed someone the most."

"That was eight _years_ ago! And I did it for my brother!"

"Betrayal is still betrayal," the girl sang.

"Oh, and _you're_ such a saint, forgive me," Fiona barked sarcastically, holding her hands up.

"Okay, that's enough," Klaus cut in, threading his arms between them. "Let's go, Fi."

"You're gonna pay for what you did to my mirror," Fiona pointed heatedly at her before Klaus drug her off in the direction of the entrance. "That marker don't come off!"

The girl flinched, puzzled. "What _about_ your mirror?" she retorted.

"I know your handwriting anywhere, Katey! Don't lie to me!"

Katey blinked at her for a moment, trying to fathom what was going on, then she rolled her eyes at Fiona's stupidity and looked over at Violet. "Mind if I come with you guys?"

The Quagmires looked at Violet. "If you want," she replied calmly with a shrug. "I'm still not letting you date Klaus."

The girl fought not to glare. "I know," she forced herself to say sweetly. "I just wanna watch you invent is all."

Quigley and Duncan shared a puzzled glance. Anything to score brownie-points with Klaus's "guardian".

"Okay. C'mon," Violet nodded at the hallway.

Katey followed closely behind, but what they didn't see was the raw wrath seething from her eyes, stabbing Violet square in the back.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N:** **'Sup everybody?! I ain't got much to say today, but shoutout to the awesome** _Guest_ **for reviewing! ;) \m/**

 **.**

 _Guest_ _**–––**_ _Not a problem! :) And it's ironic that it turned out to be "fair" to Fiona because I'm a diehard Kladora shipper. Like, DIEHARD. Lol. I truly hope this is unbiased, though. In the beginning I used to do what a lot of fanfic writers do and make her evil, but then I realized you can make a character decent and still hate 'em. I guess what I'm trying to say is I'm trying to get better as a writer, to see all sides of things from an unbiased perspective and better my storytelling skills, and I've found that it's easy to diss/make a character you hate "hateable", but it's a challenge (and the right thing to do) to write everything from a neutral standpoint._

 _Thanks, I will. ;) And thank you for your feedback. Every little bit helps me get better. :)_

 **.**

 **Disclaimer:** **Me no own ASOUE.** ** _Still_** **an obsessed fangirl. ^_^**

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Chapter 3  
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"Who the hell does she think she is?" Fiona snarled, ripping a small specimen off of a fat, rotting log. "'If it weren't for _me_ , _you'd_ be blubbering like a caveman!'" she mimicked in a high-pitched sneer. "No, _you'd_ be blubbering like a caveman if I had no restraint left!"

"Let it go, Fi," Klaus told her soothingly, leaning back against a tall, thick, knotted oak, observing the mycologist in her natural habitat. "She ain't worth your time."

"No, I _won't_ let it go!" Fiona barked hotly, glaring at him. "I've let too much of her nonsense slide and she _still_ keeps picking at me! Maybe if I give her a free facelift, she'll finally leave me alone!"

"Violence will only make it worse," Klaus reminded her softly, watching her get up and storm over to a colossal oak branch that had given up the will to hang on a couple weeks ago.

"Yeah, for _her_! Not me!" Fiona spat over her shoulder. She flopped down on her hands and knees and examined the underside for any more free samples. "Ugh, is there _any_ reishi on this island?" she wondered exasperatedly. Her glare lowered to the ground, and before long, her eyebrows rose in surprise. "Well, hel-lo. What do we have here?"

A peck of snow-white mushrooms had taken root a foot or so from her position, standing tall, boasting their potential.

Fiona grinned crookedly at her luck. "Amanita ocreata…we meet at last." Immediately, she stretched her arm out and uprooted the entire family of mushrooms, adrenaline racing through her veins at her latest thought. _Yeah, these'll do_ just _fine_ , she thought.

* * *

/

* * *

"There. All done," Violet breathed, sliding her welding goggles up onto her forehead.

"Is he really?" Quigley asked excitedly, peeking around her latest invention at her. "Can I turn him on now?"

"I think you two should get a room first," Duncan suggested, fighting to keep a straight face.

"Donuts, I swear to God…" Quigley snarled, his eyes flickering.

"What?" Duncan asked innocently.

"You know what!" Quigley snapped.

Duncan smiled mockingly. Finally, Quigley got a taste of his own medicine after twenty-two years. No way was he going to stop medicating him now. "Well, hey, I mean, if you love Edison, does that mean _I_ get to be Violet's husband?"

" _No!_ " Quigley barked viciously, his glare worsening. "Nobody would fall for _you_ , nerd! Even _Edison_ has standards!"

"How would you know he has standards? Are you two super close?"

Quigley's eyes narrowed dangerously, steam rolling out of his ears as if he were a train. Everybody watched intently, prepping themselves for his famous retaliation tactic. But to their awe, they'd jumped the gun and assumed too quick. Quigley merely stood there, squinting ominously at his older brother, not even daring to blink.

Duncan flinched, equally as awed. "Okay, seriously, that's the _third_ time today you didn't put me in a headlock," he observed, crossing his arms. "What, is my maturity finally rubbing off on you? Is my little brother growing up?"

Quigley just shook his head slowly.

Suddenly, a couple _boop!_ ing noises interrupted their spat and Quigley whirled around to find Isadora flipping a few switches. "Isadora!" he whined. " _I_ was gonna turn him on!"

Duncan stifled a giggle.

" _Duncan!_ " Quigley roared, whirling around with a sadistic glare.

"Nobody was doing anything but arguing," Isadora pointed out. "I mean, I'm sorry, Quigley, but twenty-two years of your guys' bickering is _really_ getting old."

Edison's eyes lit up and surveyed the group in front of him. "Master Violet," he finally greeted sweetly, turning to face his creator. "It's a pleasure to meet you at last. I'm Edison Tesla, your Very-own Facilitative Deputy. How may I help you?"

"He's wonderful," Isadora remarked breathlessly, marveling every inch of her best friend's latest invention.

"I'll say," Katey agreed. "You're quite the gear-head, Violet. You could give Tim Fletcher a run for his money."

Violet blushed, looking away bashfully. "Thanks," she said quietly. She looked at her awakened companion and smiled. "The pleasure's all mine, Edison. How do you feel?"

"Mechanically speaking? All of my parts and functions are at optimal level," Edison replied with a nod.

"Is there anything I can do for _you_?" Violet offered.

Edison was quiet for a minute, his eyes softening. "Your…concern for my well-being is most touching, Master," he choked. "But I wish to be no burden to you or anyone else. My function is to serve you and whomever else you tell me to serve. Only then, when my master is satisfied, I'm satisfied."

Quigley smiled crookedly in amazement. Was there _anything_ his wife couldn't do? Wait, never mind… _that_ was rhetorical.

"Miss Baudelaire?" a man called, knocking on her door. "Can we talk with you for a second?"

"Sure, it's open," Violet hollered back.

In walked a group of volunteers about her age. "Thank you," the man leading the group smiled. "I hope we're not interrupting."

"Oh, no, you're fine," Violet replied. "I was just testing Edison out."

The volunteers' eyes widened in astonishment as Edison surveyed his master's latest visitors. "He's magnificent!" another volunteer cried, his associates murmuring in agreement.

"Thanks," Violet blushed again. "What did you wanna talk to me about?"

"We need your help," the man sighed, as if he'd failed at something. "The plane out front won't start and nothing we do seems to work. If we can't fix it in time, we won't be able to leave after the meeting."

"Oh…okay, I'll check it out." Violet looked at Edison. "C'mon, Edison, let's go help 'em out."

"Right behind you, Master Violet," Edison clomped after her.

"Sorry, guys. I'll see you at dinner," Violet looked over her shoulder apologetically at the others. And with that, Edison gave them a small wave and closed the door behind them.

The Quagmires and Katey looked at each other. "Now what do we do?" Duncan asked finally.

"Cause trouble, of course," Quigley replied with his trademark devilish grin. "What _else_ is there to do?"

Duncan gave him a look.

"Oh, loosen your belt, nerd! Enjoy life for once," Quigley snorted, fiddling with the ring on his left hand, then he turned and headed over to the door. "I'll be anywhere and everywhere if you need me."

"I'll…be in my room," Isadora piped up meekly, trudging after him.

Katey looked to find Duncan's jaw clenched, his gaze piercing through the wall in the direction his brother disappeared. "You okay?" she asked.

"Hm?" Duncan snapped out of his trance. "Oh, yeah, I'm…I'm fine."

"Nice try," Katey told him, skepticism apparent in her eyes. "I've seen that look before. It's the look I've given that sea brat too many times."

Duncan tipped his head, puzzled.

"You're jealous of him, aren't you?" Katey said, her words sounding more like a declaration than a question.

Duncan looked down at the regal red carpet, defeated. He never really was good at hiding his emotions. His heart was burning alive, both from the pain and the anger. How could she pick _Quigley_ of all people?! He didn't deserve her! He'd never been starved, beaten, and stuffed in a pitch black elevator shaft! Never had to run laps all night in her place so she could study for that exam that would determine her fate! Never been chased by an angry mob for a crime he didn't commit! All he was was a punk who thought life was a joke, who thought he was cool, a chick magnet, the best comedian in history. He didn't get straight-A's and keep his nose clean like _he_ did! He wasn't hardworking like _he_ was! He wasn't husband material like _he_ was!

AND SHE MARRIED _QUIGLEY_ INSTEAD OF _HIM_?! OF _COURSE_ HE WAS JEALOUS!

"Sorry…did I touch a nerve?" Katey asked after a moment.

The look in Duncan's eyes intensified. Luckily, he was still looking at the floor. His jaw clenched again.

Guilt creeping in, Katey walked over to him and wrapped him in an empathetic hug. "I'm sorry, Duncan. I know _exactly_ how you feel."

Duncan melted into her embrace. Finally, someone truly _knew_ his agony. "Thanks, Katey," he whispered, fighting to keep himself together.

They stood there, wrapped in each other's arms for what felt like forever, when before long, Katey looked into his eyes with an inviting smile. "Don't worry, things will get better. Evil may win this battle, but it never wins the war."

"All my life it's won," Duncan admitted mournfully.

"A war consists of _many_ battles, not just a few. You still have the rest of your life to win her over."

Duncan looked off to the side in thought. "Y'know…you're right. I _do_ have the rest of the war to win her over." An optimistic smile finally began to spread across his face. "I'm not gonna stop until she sees I'm the right one for her, even if I have to do a few crazy things."

"That's the spirit," Katey patted his shoulders. "Remember: they only win if we let them."

Duncan nodded thoughtfully. He always knew he was the better brother. Now, it was time to prove it.

* * *

/

* * *

Isadora sighed, turning the page of a thick, dusty volume on her desk. For hours she'd been alternating between writing her soul in her notebook and reading others', soaking up every ounce of knowledge they'd left behind between each line. She looked down at the next poem before her, and suddenly, her mind went numb. Elizabeth Barrett Browning's legacy held her gaze with a blinding innocence she'd almost forgotten, reminding her of a time when life was so simple…so untainted…actually worth living. There was a time, yes…

 _Was_.

As Isadora read the million dollar question atop the page for the millionth time in her life, she felt her heart begin to lose its integrity. It wasn't long ago that she'd dismissed this innocence, the optimism of tomorrow. For her, there _were_ no tomorrows. Not after what happened when she'd walked through the front door after a long night of spying on the enemy. The sights, the sounds, everything came rushing back to her, drowning her once more in the waters of agony. Tears welled up in her eyes…her heartbeat quickened…

With a wrathful cry, Isadora seized the book and threw it across her room, the volume crashing into the wall and onto the floor with an earth-shattering _thud!_ Her breathing now ominous and heavy, she glared at it, silently daring it to move. But, like most books, it stayed put, especially after seeing the look in her eye.

Just then, there was a knock at the door. Isadora hurriedly wiped her eyes and swallowed her pain. "It's open," she called.

The door opened and Duncan peeked inside, looking for something. "Hey Isadora, it's me. What was that noise?"

"Oh, uh…" Isadora stuttered, flushing in embarrassment. "Just…my book. It…fell off the shelf." She pointed at the volume to his left.

Duncan followed her finger. "How'd it fall off your shelf and land all the way over here?"

Isadora gulped. Shoot! There was no mathematical or scientific explanation for why it was completely _beside_ her bookshelf and the shelves were facing her bed against the north wall. "Uh…it was on top of my bookshelf," she said quickly.

"Oh…okay." Duncan walked over to the book, picked it up, and set it on top of the shelf before heading over to her. "You ready for dinner?"

"Is it six already?" Isadora flinched.

"Well, ten to six. I thought we'd find a seat before it all fills up."

"Oh…alright. Let's go." Isadora grabbed her notebook and followed him.

The dining room, much like the rest of Maidenly Manor, was nothing short of breathtaking beauty. Stretching from wall to wall beneath a diamond-crusted chandelier was a gorgeous mahogany table, each of its spots furnished with a golden plate, golden silverware, and a golden goblet. Up and down the walls were numerous thirty-foot tall portraits of all the volunteers before them, complete with their name, their birth (and death) date, and their major(s). And just off to the side were a pair of double doors leading to the kitchen.

Much to Duncan and Isadora's dismay, the others had the same thought as Duncan and came early. After craning their necks a bit, they spied three empty chairs side-by-side and hurried over to them. They took a seat and automatically placed their notebooks on the third one for Quigley…wherever he was. For as long as they could remember, Quigley was _always_ late to dinner. Didn't matter what he was doing, he was _always_ late. This was nothing new.

"Hello, volunteers!" a man about their age hollered happily, and everybody's eyes fell on him.

Duncan looked at his watch. A wasn't kidding: dinner commenced _right_ at eight.

"Thank you all for coming out to my beautiful home," the man continued with a smile. "I'm Tadrey McGrace, one of the heads of V.F.D.'s Combat Training program." He was a handsome devil, dressed to the nines in a crisp, all-white suit, his short dark hair glistening with gel, a long, royal-looking sword hanging from his belt. "I'm glad you all could join us for dinner tonight…well, most of you. It gets pretty lonely around here all by myself."

Puzzled, everyone looked around the room and found about twenty or so chairs vacant, besides Quigley's.

"Actually, there are a few volunteers down at the landing strip fixing the plane," one volunteer in the back piped up. "They probably lost track of time."

"Oh. Well, then, no worries," Tadrey waved his hand with a forgiving nod. "That's a relief. For a moment, I thought it was my hygiene."

The volunteers laughed.

Suddenly, the double doors burst open and in ran Quigley. "Sorry I'm late," he panted, bending over to catch his breath.

"Oh, he's not sorry, he does it all the time," Duncan told Tadrey.

"Shut up, Donuts! …Wherever you are," Quigley growled. He paused to supply his lungs with a couple more doses of oxygen. "The prank took a little longer than I thought," he explained apologetically. "I really didn't mean to be late this time."

"That's alright. We haven't started eating yet." Tadrey smiled. "I'm quite curious as to what your prank is, though."

"Not if you're at the other end of it," Duncan said, and the volunteers laughed again.

"Personal experience, Duncan?"

"More times than I can count," Duncan replied.

Quigley looked around the room for his siblings, and after Isadora confirmed their location with a wave, he walked over to them, making sure to punch Duncan along the way.

"Quigley!" Duncan hissed, glaring at him.

"Then keep your mouth shut," Quigley snorted, taking a seat on Isadora's other side. "Or I'll shut it _permanently_."

"I'd love to see you try," Duncan challenged with a smirk.

"No, you wouldn't. Because I'll rip your eyes out first!"

" _Listen_ you little–––!"

Just then, the double doors burst open again and in ran another volunteer, her face pallid with panic. "Tadrey!" she breathed. "The plane…the plane!"

Puzzled murmuring started up at the table. "What about the plane?" Tadrey asked.

The volunteer bent over to catch her breath. "I headed over there to check on them and…and…"

Tadrey nodded. "Go on," he urged.

The volunteer looked up at him, tears in her eyes. "It…it exploded! Took out the whole block!"


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Happy very late 2018 everybody! Finally! My store's remodel is OVER, but I have a new problem** _ **–––**_ **a new job: road construction. Yes, road construction, a phrase which here means "I have no time for writing in the summer." Lol. Sorry for not updating in forever. I promise, I still haven't forgotten about you guys! ;) Before we begin, I gotta thank the awesome** _Guest_ **for reviewing! You're awesomesauce, man! ^_^ \m/** ** _  
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 _Guest_ _––– YES, LET THE GAMES BEGIN! XD_

 _Oh no, it's fine. :) What you said_ is _true, though: ASOUE doesn't get a lot of traffic fanfiction-wise, especially the M section. Breaks my heart_ so _much :( it's such an_ amazing _series…_ _I acknowledge your suggestion to lower the rating, but believe me, it's rated M for a reason. Just give it a few more chapters. ;) Lol_

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 **Disclaimer:** **Me** ** _still_** **no own ASOUE. Don't feel like getting creative with my disclaimers today :/ Maybe next chapter.**

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Chapter 4  
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" _What?!_ " Quigley cried, springing up from his seat, horrified.

"I believe she said the plane ex–––" an old volunteer down the table started.

" _I know what she said!_ " Quigley screamed viciously, glaring at him. Immediately, he flew back over to the doors he burst through earlier, his heart beginning to race.

"Quigley, wait for us!" Isadora hollered, she and Duncan (and the rest of the volunteers) getting up from the table and hurrying after him.

Quigley burst out the front door and booked it down to where Mason had parked his trolley. " _Mason! Wait!_ " he yelled as loud as he could, just as he began to drive off.

Startled by his state of mania, Mason hit the brakes and looked around at him. "Quigley? No wait, Duncan. No wait–––"

Quigley flew on board. "Dock! Triple time! Now!" he barked.

"A-alright," Mason said, silencing all his questions and obediently flooring it.

Just before the trolley zoomed off down the road at an impressive speed, something lunged aboard, rocking it all about. His adrenaline levels making Mount Fraught look as tall as a molehill, Quigley whirled around to find his brother and sister panting uncontrollably in the back, the rest of the volunteers racing after the trolley in an attempt to board it to settle their curiosity.

"Donuts! Isadora!" he breathed.

"Why didn't you wait for us?" Isadora asked. "You're not the only one concerned about Violet!"

"There's no _time_ to wait!" Quigley said, hanging onto one of the rungs above him. "Violet needs me!"

"She needs _us_ , you dimwitted miscreant!" Duncan corrected him furiously, he and Isadora doing the same. "That's what friends are for!"

Quigley's upper lip curled into a bloodthirsty snarl. "Don't push me, Donuts…" he threatened darkly. "Or I'll push you off this trolley!"

Duncan gladly returned the gesture, remembering what Katey had said. All these years of buttoning up and being the good brother, evil had only won battle after battle, reaped spoil after spoil, and one of those spoils was the girl of his dreams…the future Mrs. Duncan Quagmire. Of all the things that had been taken from him that he rightfully deserved, this crossed the line. And to add insult to injury, it was by his own brother. He flashed back to what he'd carved inside the red herring he and Isadora were being smuggled out of the city in years ago. Before him was a similar herring, garbed in his usual dark red sweatshirt. Now it was time to carve that exact thing into _him_ , only this time with much more passion…more _hatred_. Give him a permanent reminder of whose spoil she _really_ was.

With a wrathful cry, Duncan lunged forward and tackled Quigley to the floor, the two beginning to wrestle mercilessly. Isadora jumped in surprise, not knowing what to do. The trolley was flying faster than anything she'd ever felt. So fast in fact that if she let go of the rung above her, she was positive she'd fall off. So fast that she was astonished her brothers hadn't fallen off yet.

"What the hell, Duncan?!" Quigley cried, socking him in the face. "What's your problem?!"

" _You're my problem!_ " Duncan spat ferociously, an evil in his eyes he'd never seen before.

"That's news to me!" Quigley snapped sarcastically. "I meant, what's _wrong_ with you?! You're _never_ like this, and I didn't _do_ anything!"

" _Nothing's wrong with me!_ " Duncan kept the punches coming. A twisted feeling of satisfaction surged through his veins like a demented electricity as he watched blood begin to leak from his brother's nose and mouth. At last, life was beginning to drain from him. Only X amount of punches to go…then Violet would be all _his_. Unfortunately, he was so caught up in marveling his handiwork that Quigley saw his chance, slammed his head hard into his nose, and tackled him, both of them falling off the trolley onto a big steep hill.

The two crashed on the ground and rolled violently from the speed they were going, but when they finally came to a stop moments later, the two let go and looked at each other, the world spinning around them, both ready to throw up.

" _Bastard!_ " Duncan screamed, tackling Quigley again, and the two resumed tumbling down the hill, wrestling along the way. This continued until they reached the very bottom a couple minutes later, only one thing making them stop brawling, and this was the unbearable heat of the sun. Or at least it felt like it. Quigley and Duncan looked to find the entire boarded-up town, and some parts of the hill, engulfed in a raging inferno at least fifty feet tall. Their jaws dropped in horror. Sure enough, the volunteer was right: nothing was left of the plane. Or this block. It was all history.

"No…" Quigley uttered hoarsely, shaking his head, refusing to believe what was before him. Already sweat began pouring down his face, and that wasn't because of his and Duncan's little spat. Immediately, he sprung up from the ground and flew over to the enormous wall of fire just down the dock. " _Violet!_ " he cried, his eyes wet with tears, and not just from all the smoke. " _Violet!_ " He scanned every inch of the perimeter for any sign of his beloved. After catching his breath and shaking off the shock, Duncan followed after him.

"H…Help meee…" a feeble voice wheezed pleadingly, a borderline skeletal, blackened hand stretching out from underneath a chunk of one of the wings.

To Duncan's surprise, Quigley ignored the volunteer's plea and kept running, looking all around wildly for Violet. He glared at him. With as much as he loved Violet, he knew there was no excuse to not help another volunteer in need. Duncan hurried over to the volunteer, and at once the heat grew even more torturous, so bad that he couldn't keep his eyes open. In fact, if he hadn't have known better, he could've sworn _he_ was on fire. "Hang on! I'm gonna get you outta there!" he called over the raging flames.

" _Violet!_ " Quigley screamed, his lungs burning. " _Violet!_ "

"Help! Assistance please!" a frantic robotic voice hollered from just a little farther down.

Quigley's eyes widened, his ears perking up. "Edison?" he yelled. "Edison, is that you?"

"Master Quigley?" the robotic voice replied, a touch relieved. "Is that you? It is I, Edison Tesla, your Very-own Facilitative Deputy. I need help!"

"Hang on, I'm coming!" Quigley kicked it into his highest gear possible. He cut through the thick cloud of black smoke like a knife and hurried up to Edison, who appeared to be hacking at one of the giant propellers with his built-in machete. But it wasn't this that had him horrified. It was who was trapped under the propeller. Severely burned, blackened, and unrecognizable, much like the other volunteer, was another volunteer. And if Edison was trying to get them out, he had a pretty good guess at who it was.

"VIOLET!" Quigley scrambled over to her, hysteria washing over him. He knelt down to look into her beautiful dark eyes, to assure her that Prince Charming was here. Everything was going to be alright.

"My machete isn't working," Edison concluded, shame in his eyes. "Perhaps my welder will be of better assistance?"

"Try _everything_!" Quigley ordered, fighting not to sound desperate. He looked down to find Violet looking back up at him weakly. "Don't worry, beautiful, we'll get you outta here," he told her soothingly, stroking her oozy, prune-like cheek.

Violet merely looked back up at him without a word.

" _Duncan!_ " Yes, he was willing to bury the hatchet for a moment. With as much as he hated to admit it, he couldn't do this alone. He needed _all_ the help he could get. " _Duncan, help! I found Violet!_ "

The fire roared beside him for awhile, and just when he was about to give up on that plan, Duncan came flying into view, his face blackened, sweaty, and determined.

Quigley sighed with relief. "Edison, weld through this blade! Duncan and I'll pull it off her!" He looked at Duncan, who came flying up to him, mortified at what he'd found. "Duncan, come on, help me get this off her! Pull!" The two brothers began pulling with all their might on the blade Edison began cutting through feverishly. Thankfully, it had been so weakened by the explosion, it was a lot easier to cut through, to Edison's surprise, and it was a lot easier to pull apart from the rest of the blade, to the Quagmire brothers' surprise. Before long, Edison finished cutting off a chunk of the propeller blade trapping his creator, and after what felt like an eternity, the three managed to heave it off to the side into a flaming heap of debris.

" _Violet!_ " Quigley cried, the three rushing back over to her. He dropped to his knees beside her and looked down at her bottom half, which, to his horror, was eerie, blackened bones.

Edison activated an array of medical equipment and placed it on certain parts of Violet's body. He was quiet for a moment, watching the screen on his wrist intently. "…No life signs detected," he reported softly, looking up at her mournfully.

" _NOOOOOOO!_ " Quigley wailed, slamming his fist on the dock, tears pouring down his sooty cheeks. " _NOOOOOOO!_ _VIOLET, NO-O-O-OOOOOOO!_ "

The rest was a blur to Duncan, time practically stopping as he blinked at his beloved in front of him, too numb to react in any way. All of that fighting…and for what? Nothing. It didn't matter what Quigley did now. It didn't matter what _he_ did now. Either way, both of them were going to win at a losing game. He found his mind wandering back to Prufrock, where he'd first met her. In the cafeteria, amongst the calamity of cakesniffers. He'd always been the shy type, never one to get in a fight, and he was perfectly okay with that, but for once, he was glad he took after Quigley and stood up to Carmelita that day. He couldn't imagine where he'd be today if he hadn't have said something.

But…was it really all worth it? To stand up for a girl he'd never get to kiss? Never get to hold? Never get to marry and spend the rest of his life with? And, of all things, to watch that same girl fall for his _brother_ instead? Was this all just wasted time? Some might see it that way, perhaps. But to him, it was worth every tear, every ounce of pain that plagued him on a daily basis. And if he could, he'd do it all over again, just to see her one last time.

Mustering up every bit of courage, Duncan took his first step back into the real world, time resuming at last, and headed over to where his brother knelt in stunned silence. Carefully, he scooped Violet's feather-light corpse up into his arms and made his way back down the dock, positive this would break Quigley's trance…and his neck. But to his surprise, Quigley remained on his knees, statue-still, too numb to protest against whose arms his world was in at the moment.

"Quigley?" Duncan said, amazed that his lungs hadn't dried up from all the smoke inhalation. "You coming?"

Quigley merely blinked at where Violet had lie, speechless.

"It appears Master Quigley is more traumatized than we thought," Edison analyzed, then looked over at Duncan. "Should I carry him?"

"That's not necessary," Duncan replied, shaking his head. "But it _does_ look like he might need some help getting inside."

"Yes, Master Duncan," Edison nodded. "I'll help him to his room."

"Thank you, Edison."

"My pleasure." Edison turned and walked over to his assignment as Duncan resumed walking. He looked down at Violet, all crusty and oozy in his hands, an indescribable but stomach-turning odor wafting into his nose. He shivered. Was this what death smelled like? Was this what his parents looked like after the Quagmire fire? Did she die on the spot, quick and painless? Or did she suffer as bad as she looked? These and more questions bounced around in his head, unable to catch a break for even a minute.

When he reached the sidewalk, he found a herd of volunteers surveying the scene like frightened cattle. They too had been overwhelmed by the sights, smells, and sounds of tragedy. But when their eyes fell on him and Violet, their faces paled, and before long they were in a trance just like he'd been in earlier.

"Is that…?" one volunteer choked through his shock.

"Is that my Todd?" another volunteer sobbed, tears streaming down her cheeks.

Duncan shook his head, his insides still numb, and his face still expressionless. "It's Violet," he managed to grunt, and kept walking.

The volunteers gasped and began murmuring frantically amongst each other. He could hear Quigley's tortured cries not far behind him, Edison doing his best to console him. Normally, this would've brought him a sick satisfaction to hear his younger brother cry like this over losing Violet, but not this time. This time was different. There had been a flaw in making his utopian dream come true. The planned scenario would've been Quigley crying like this over losing Violet to _him_ , not fire. And since the subject of his objective had perished, there was nothing to laugh about now. His dream had been shattered entirely, officially unobtainable by the hand of a horrific accident.

…In fact, he kind of felt sorry for Quigley…

Suddenly, Duncan lurched forward violently and crashed on the ground, Violet's remains flying out of his hands. He looked around wildly for any sight of what he'd tripped over, but instead he saw Quigley standing over him with a demonic glare. " _Get your hands off her_ ," he hissed terribly through clenched teeth, then he walked over to Violet's remains and scooped them up in his arms gingerly, the bloodthirsty look in his eye replaced by one of pure torture. She was still staring up at the sky with her burned face blank, but her eyes, however, looked pleading…almost as if she were begging for something.

Quigley shivered, letting an agonized noise escape his lips as he carried her up to the trolley, where Mason and Isadora were waiting for them. He could picture her tinkering away at some malfunctioned part of the plane, doing what she did best. He could picture the plane exploding into an enormous ball of fire, consuming every inch of her body. He could picture the flames eating away at her flesh as she screamed for his help, for her Prince Charming to come save her from her misery. And after seeing the look in her eyes, his worst fears had been confirmed: her death wasn't quick and painless. Rather, she'd died begging for help…begging for someone to get her out from under the plane propeller while she burned alive.

…But he was too late.

"Good God, what happened?" Mason asked, his voice trembling as Quigley and Duncan climbed aboard the trolley.

"Just drive, Mason," Quigley choked, tears welling up in his eyes again.

"A-alright." Mason leaned out the window to look at the other volunteers. "Alright, volunteers, everybody climb aboard," he called. "Don't want anyone else getting hurt."

Obediently, the group of volunteers climbed aboard and took a seat. When everyone was settled, Mason drove off and Isadora, who'd taken a seat next to Quigley, looked at him, in a trance just like everyone else. "I'm so sorry, Quigley," she whispered finally, shaking her head slowly, unable to take her eyes off what once was her best friend.

"It's fine, Isadora," Quigley sniffed. He stared down at Violet's left hand, where a gold band was wrapped around her ring finger, the giant glistening sapphire now sullied by soot and blood. All that time spent planning…carefully mapping out how he wanted his love to look on her hand when she showed it to the world…wasted. But he wouldn't take it off her hand. No sir. She was _his_ girl, even though she'd passed and would never hold him again. And if the world could never see that again, at least he could bury her with it so she could show the whole graveyard that she was still taken.

Duncan, who'd sat across the aisle from them, looked over to find Quigley rubbing Violet's stomach in a slow, clockwise motion. Isadora picked up on this behavior too and tipped her head, just as puzzled as Duncan. "What are you doing?" she asked delicately, though, honestly, it sounded like a stupid question to her. _He's mourning, Isadora, duh,_ she thought.

Quigley looked at her, his eyes red from a combination of smoke, anger, and pain. He took a deep, quivery breath and sighed, wiping his face, which was soaked from crying. "She was pregnant…" he admitted quietly.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N:** **Shoutout to the awesome** _Guest_ **and** _Zevoros_ **for reviewing! You rock, my friends! ;) \m/**

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 ** _Guest_** _––– Yes, it has. I work road construction so I'm away from home practically all summer. Otherwise, this would be far more caught up. That, and I've been in a really big_ Into the Fire _mood lately, so that's also why. But I ain't forgot about this story, so don't worry. I_ will _finish it ;) And yes, she has become the only dish she could cook, ironically. Lol XD_

 _._

 _Yes, things are only going to get worse from here on out. And yes, that_ does _seem to be a recurring theme in my stories: Violet dying._ Into the Fire _was the other one she died in. Lol XD_

 ** _Zevoros_** _––– Aww, thanks, my friend. I'm flattered ^_^ Maybe she still_ is _essential, maybe she's not. Let's find out ;) No, they didn't mention Sunny or Beatrice. I think it's because they're still too young to officially be on V.F.D. business? I never really thought about them for this story to be honest. :( But, I'll figure something out. I think it's going to be for the reason above, now that I think about it._

 _._

 _Yeah! Kladora or DIE, baby! XD \m/ No, actually, they're all still up there. None were deleted. But remember, just because their names aren't in brackets doesn't mean it can't go somewhere ;) I mostly did that for suspense, to better my writing skills. Will they, won't they? Because what fun would it be in the longrun if you knew how it was going to end? Nobody would read it and truly_ respect _it, and frankly, even_ I _would get bored with it, and I fucking_ love _those two. They're my OTP. I like to have my heartstrings pulled. Make me feel something, if you will. And that's my goal with my stories: to make people feel something, truly_ feel _something. People won't respect what doesn't make them feel. So long story short, if her name is in the description, or one of the "main" four characters at the bottom, check it out. See where it goes. ;)_

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 **Disclaimer:** **Me no own ASOUE. If I did, I wouldn't be here. ;)**

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Chapter 5  
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Quigley stared out his dorm window, his face just as lifeless as his wife's. He was no longer hungry, and Tadrey had canceled the meeting upon hearing of the accident. Instead, he'd filled the time allotted for the meeting with a funeral for those lost, and since there was no way of getting back to the V.F.D. Headquarters, they were stranded until they could call for another ride back, which was what Tadrey was doing now.

How long had he been staring out his window? Ever since he'd gotten back to Maidenly Manor, yes, but that felt like an eternity ago. His thoughts drifted to the Mortmain Mountains, the very place he'd met Violet. There they were, enduring the snow scouts' ridiculous pledge in that dark, cold cave. They they were, in the Valley of Four Drafts, amongst the ruins of the old V.F.D. Headquarters, when he'd seen her angelic face for the first time. They they were, resting from their climb up to Mount Fraught on that small, icy ledge, marveling the view of the hinterlands in the distance.

…Well, _she_ was anyway. _He'd_ been marveling the sight of her next to him. How could someone be so beautiful and so kind at the same time? It was almost too good to be true. Especially with what happened next. Before he knew it, their lips were locked and their fate was sealed with that first kiss. But, as fate would also have it, they were separated by the Stricken Stream shortly after their encounter with Count Olaf at the top, and he was forced to endure a year of unbelievable atrocities aboard The Great Unknown. But right before he thought he'd never see her again, she'd rescued him, and they'd been inseparable ever since.

Despite V.F.D. consuming most of their lives, they'd found time between missions to hang out, get to know each other better. And when they'd both come of age, he slipped that ring on her finger without hesitation, knowing without a doubt she was the one. Mrs. Quigley Quagmire, his pride and joy, the mother of his children, the one he'd spend the rest of his life with.

…And now she was gone.

Quigley broke down, banging his fist harshly against the glass. To his surprise, with as hard as he'd banged the window, it didn't break. His future, however, did. It was shattered right before him when he'd laid eyes on Violet's remains. There was no reason to live anymore. He had nothing to live for. And Duncan and Isadora? They could take care of themselves. They didn't need his help. His parents were ripped away, his home was ripped away, his life was ripped away…

…And now his wife and child were ripped away.

Quigley's eyes flashed open, possessed by that demonic gleam again, his teeth bared like a rabid animal. Suddenly, with a loud, outraged cry, he began tearing his room apart, destroying anything and everything he could get his hands on. Why should anything, or _anyone_ for that matter, still be intact if his life wasn't? It wasn't fair! No one deserved to be tortured like this day in and day out. And it was all because of this damn organization. It'd brought nothing but hell on him. The heavens were going to pay for what they put him through. Today was a new day, and _everyone_ was going to know it.

* * *

/

* * *

Klaus shook his head, unable to believe his eyes. There Violet was, her grisly remains lying inside one of the many beautiful mahogany caskets. Everyone was in attendance, except for Quigley, surprisingly. He would've thought _he'd_ at least come to pay his respects. But then again, his brother-in-law was probably still recovering from the agonizing sights, smells, and sounds he'd encountered on the landing strip. He didn't blame him. In fact, it was traumatizing just looking at his sister's remains in a much more glamorous environment, he couldn't imagine what Quigley was going through. And for that, he forgave him.

"I can't believe she's gone," Isadora said quietly, shaking her head, just as shocked as the others.

"Me neither," Fiona agreed.

"I wonder what happened," Katey mused. "Like, what caused it to blow up? Did somebody hook up the wrong wire to something?"

Everybody looked at her. "What're you saying?" Isadora peered at her suspiciously.

"I mean, was it an accident? Or was it an "accident"?" Katey clarified, air-quoting the last word with a scowl at Fiona.

"Are you accusing me?" Fiona inquired with a glare.

Before more caskets were needed for the ceremony, Klaus weaved a hand in between them and cut in front of his beloved. "Are you saying my sister was _murdered_?" he whispered, his heart tensing, staring at Katey seriously.

"I don't know," Katey admitted with a shrug. "I'm just wondering what happened."

"Why else would you say it then?" Fiona snarled. "Guilty conscious maybe?"

"I didn't do _anything_ ," Katey said firmly. "And now that I think about it, it couldn't have been murder because our enemies don't know where Ebullient Isle _is_."

"So it _was_ an accident," Duncan said, praying that murder wasn't in the equation this time. He'd seen too much of it in this past decade. He didn't want to see any more, especially if it involved the girl of his dreams.

"Must've been," Katey said, then gave Fiona another accusatory scowl.

"You _are_ accusing me!" Fiona cried, her eyes narrowing, her hands balling into fists.

"I am _not_!" Katey shot back.

"Alright, enough!" Klaus said with a stern look at both of them. "We're gonna find out what happened, alright? Everybody's innocent until we find the cause. Now stop fighting and be nice, you two!"

Fiona and Katey glared at each other one last time before the chapel doors flung open and Tadrey walked up the aisle to them. "I'm so sorry about your sister, Klaus," he said softly, his eyes filled with empathy. "And I'm afraid I have more bad news."

Everyone looked at each other, puzzled. "What do you mean?" Klaus said.

"I can't get ahold of HQ," Tadrey explained. "The phones and telegraph machines aren't working. Then again, they _are_ very old, I think that's why. And since all of our gearheads went down to the landing strip to fix the plane, everyone who has expertise in mechanics is dead. Nobody here can fix the phones for us to get ahold of someone to get us off the island. We're stranded."

Dread crept in. They were _trapped_ out here? That couldn't be… "We're…we're _stranded_?" Duncan gasped, his eyes widening in horror. This day just keeps getting better.

Tadrey nodded slowly, unable to believe it himself. "I _knew_ I should've asked Todd to give my phones a checkup before going out there to fix it," he said with a flinch. "…But, don't worry. We'll figure something out," he added optimistically. "Until then, enjoy your stay." With a final remorseful smile, he turned and walked over to some volunteers weeping in the back pews.

Fiona shook her head, her blood boiling. First she couldn't find any reishi to study, then Katey accuses her of an absolutely ridiculous act, and now they were stranded on Ebullient Isle until further notice. Just when her luck couldn't get any worse. "I'll be in our room," she said to Klaus. "Gonna see if I can make something out of the mushrooms I found." She headed out of the chapel before she could add Katey to the body count.

"I'll be in my room, too," Katey said. "See you later." With that, she pinched Klaus's cheek with a wink, and strutted after her.

"I'll be in mine if you need me," Duncan grunted. "I need a moment." He shoved his hands in his pockets and followed Katey.

Klaus watched them walk out, shaking his head. Between his sister's death and being trapped out in the middle of the ocean, he didn't know what to feel. Sunny and Beatrice _had_ to be worried about him. Yes, they had each other, but it wasn't the same. And what would they say if he came back without Violet? How could he break the news to them? He wasn't ready to be the oldest. He didn't know _how_ Violet did it. What if he failed? Or worse, what if something happened to one of them? How could he live with _that_?

"Hey," a soothing voice said, followed by his left shoulder being rubbed.

Klaus looked to find Isadora looking up at him, trying to console him no doubt, but at a loss of what to say. "Everything will be alright," she said finally. "I promise."

Klaus forced a halfhearted smile. He didn't feel like smiling, or feeling in general for that matter, but he had to reward her efforts for trying to cheer him up. "Thanks, Isadora," he said quietly.

Isadora smiled, but after a moment, he realized hers almost seemed forced too. Something was eating away at her, he could feel it.

"What's wrong?" he asked. "Something's bothering you."

Isadora was quiet. "Violet," she said sadly after a moment, and he needed no clarification. The two were practically sisters. No doubt she was feeling this as deeply as he was.

Klaus nodded in understanding. He thought hard for a moment, sensing that there was more to her discomfort. And knowing her, he had an idea of what it was. "I'm sorry about all that."

Isadora looked at him. "Sorry about what?" she asked.

"Y'know…" Klaus shifted nervously, his hands now in his pockets. " _That_."

Isadora stiffened. Already, she could feel the wound she tried so hard to patch up ripping open again. "It's fine," she answered sweetly.

"Really. I am," Klaus looked at her seriously.

"Don't worry about it," Isadora said, smiling. "Water under the bridge."

Klaus smiled crookedly. She took things like a champ, too. So loving, so understanding… He felt so guilty for doing that to her. But, he _had_ to. There was no choice. It had to be. He loved her so much that he wanted for her to be happy, and only by doing _this_ could they _both_ be happy.

"I'll, uh, be in my room if you need me," Klaus said, then started down the aisle.

"Thanks. That's where I'll be, too," Isadora said, but before she followed him, she walked over to the casket to say one final farewell to Violet. Tears streaming down her cheeks, she bent down to hug the rigid, cold remains as best as she could. She couldn't believe this was goodbye. The only sister she had, other than Sunny and Beatrice, was gone. The one she'd talk to about almost everything that she just couldn't talk about with her brothers? She'd have to find someone else, because those days were over. She didn't know how much time had passed, but it felt like she'd been hugging Violet forever, and before she knew it, Klaus was pulling her up from his sister's remains and leading her down the aisle briskly, as if he were late for something.

Unfortunately, both of their rooms were in the same wing, and it was highly unlikely he'd take a different route than her to get there. So Isadora took a deep breath and packed it all away. She didn't know _why_ this was still bothering her. It was months ago that this happened. Why she was still dwelling on it was beyond her. They walked side-by-side in silence, observing the manor's elegance, when after quite a walk, something caught Isadora's eye. Immediately, she stopped and stared at a rather peculiar sight.

Realizing she wasn't next to him, Klaus looked around at her, curious as to what she was doing. "Isadora? You coming?" he asked.

"Hold on," Isadora held up a finger, then walked over to what appeared to be a utility room of sorts. The door was opened just a crack, and when she examined it further, she saw that the doorknob was gone. Judging by some deep dents and some scrapes in the door frame, it was also removed by force. "Odd…" she uttered.

"What?" Klaus walked over to her to see what had her spellbound.

Isadora looked up at him, concerned. "Look." She pointed at what she'd discovered.

Klaus examined the door closely. "Looks like someone wanted in," he chuckled, but he knew this was no laughing matter. Tadrey took very good care of his mansion, even the most minute of things. He highly doubted the young master was crazy enough to break into one of his own rooms if he had a key for every lock in the place. "No, that _is_ odd. Let's check it out." He pushed the door open and walked inside the dark room.

"I got a bad feeling about this…" Isadora said nervously, but followed close behind him.

Thanks to the glow of multiple big computer screens on the wall in front of them, Klaus and Isadora realized that the room they were in was actually a control room. All different types of consoles and cables were all over the place, and to their surprise, none of them looked like they'd been disturbed in any way. There were no signs of destruction anywhere.

"It looks just fine," Klaus reported, baffled.

"Then why is the knob gone?" Isadora wondered. "If Tadrey wanted a new one, he'd have removed the whole thing, not just the knob. And even if he _did_ get locked out, it isn't like him to just wreck things. He'd have found another way in without destroying it."

"But the plane exploding was an emergency," Klaus said, looking down at her. "He had to get ahold of _somebody_. If not to get us off the island, then at least for medical help."

Isadora shook her head. "Tadrey would've at least used his keys," she pointed out. "He's not a brute."

Klaus mulled over her explanation. "Let's look around," he suggested.

They began looking all over the place for any sign of clues. This continued for the better part of the next five minutes, then finally, Isadora threw in the towel. "Klaus, I don't see anything," she sighed, dismayed. "Maybe it was just…Quigley being stupid with his pranks. He's pulled some dumb ones, back before our parents died. And since nothing in here is damaged, it's bound to be him. Right when Duncan and I sat down for dinner, he came in late saying that his prank took him longer than he thought. And breaking a doorknob off _does_ take some time, so I've heard."

"No, there's damage," Klaus confirmed from under a console.

Isadora looked around at him, puzzled. "There is?" She walked over to him.

"Look," Klaus glanced over his shoulder at her.

Isadora got down on her knees and crawled under the console.

Klaus held up a wire for her to see. "What do you notice about this?" he quizzed.

Isadora squinted in the darkness. "Um…it's a wire," she said, her eyebrows rising incredulously, surprised he didn't know what it was.

"Well, duh," Klaus chuckled. "No, I mean _look_." He pointed at the end of it.

Isadora squinted harder. "Where's the plug?"

"In the socket," Klaus said simply.

Isadora stared at the wire for a moment, then her eyes widened. "Somebody cut it," she whispered, shocked.

Klaus nodded slowly with a triumphant smile.

"Well, what's it go to?"

"I don't know," Klaus admitted. "Let's find out." He began tugging lightly, following where the wire was snaking. In no time, he had his answer. The wire was connected to a lone black phone base up on top of the console. Klaus and Isadora shared an uneasy look.

"Sabotage," Isadora concluded, her heart tensing.

"Indeed," Klaus agreed.

"But, how did our enemies find us here? How did they sneak in past everybody? Everybody's quick to see through a disguise here."

Klaus shook his head. "I don't think it was our enemies. We would've noticed them by now if it was."

Isadora tipped her head. "If it wasn't them, then who was it?"

Klaus looked at her. Though his face was rock solid, his eyes were filled with panic. "One of our own doesn't want us to leave."


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N:** **Shoutout to** _Zevoros_ **for reviewing! You're awesome, man! :)**

 **.**

 ** _Zevoros_** _––– Very well could be! ;) And I think it_ is _a sea creature, according to_ All The Wrong Questions _, but I never finished the series, so I'm not 100% sure. :o I'm pretty far in the third book though. I should get to finishing it to be sure._

 _To be honest, I've always pictured The Great Unknown to be an enemy submarine, based on how Olaf and the Baudelaires react to it. So who do they both fear that they already know about? The man with a beard but no hair and the woman with hair but no beard, who I've always pictured being the captains of it. The Baudelaires don't know about the sea creature, but Olaf does, so that rules out the sea creature theory for my stories. My other story,_ Into the Fire _, kind of expands on this. And this story is an AU to the ending of_ Into the Fire _, which I'm still writing at the moment, so everything kind of goes back to that one story. Lol._

 _I plead the fifth on that one. Sorry to be a dick, but especially in_ this _story's case, I love fucking with people's minds. Maybe you'll find out, maybe you won't. Stay tuned and you'll see which it is. ;)_

 ** _._**

 **Disclaimer:** **Me no own ASOUE.**

* * *

 _ **=======  
Chapter 6  
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* * *

"Sabotage?" Fiona breathed, astonished.

"Yeah," Klaus said, nodding. "Isadora and I found a phone wire cut in the control room."

Fiona looked at him suspiciously. "What were you two doing in the control room?"

"Isadora found the doorknob was missing and we decided to check it out," Klaus explained quickly with a blush, hoping his wife wouldn't get the wrong idea. "It looked like it was removed by force because the plate was still on the door and the trim was dented and scratched. So we walked in, looked around to see what happened, and I found a phone wire cut under a console."

"How'd you know it was a phone wire and not something else?" Fiona asked.

"I followed it," Klaus said simply. "It led to a phone on top of the console."

"Huh…" Fiona said, lost in thought at his findings. "It couldn't have been our enemies…could it? They don't know about Ebullient Isle's location."

"No," Klaus shook his head. "Worse. It was one of our own. A volunteer."

Fiona flinched. "Why would one of our own sabotage the phone lines? Makes no sense."

Klaus shrugged, equally as puzzled. "Hell if I know."

They sat there on the bed for what felt like forever. Night had fallen, and it was too dark to go outside and explore, even _with_ a flashlight. Klaus didn't know why, but he felt a bit uneasy about his discovery. Of course, he'd tell Tadrey in the morning…but then again, all this thinking about a possible conspiracy against their own made him tense, paranoid even. Why was he feeling so _bothered_ by it? There was no real evidence of betrayal here, other than the phone wire cut. And that wasn't enough to convince people of such a thing. He needed _more_.

"I need to go tell Tadrey," Klaus breathed, jumping up.

"Klaus, let it _go_. You're overthinking things," Fiona urged him tiredly.

Klaus looked around at her, appalled. "How can _you_ just let it go?" he asked. He paused, thinking, his thoughts now rapid…dark. "Did _you_ do it?" he blurted all of a sudden.

Fiona gave him the scariest glare he'd ever seen. No doubt she was offended. " _What the_ fuck _?!_ " she screamed, springing up from the bed and storming over to him. " _Excuse me?!_ "

Klaus gulped with a wince. …But, something deep inside was still rattling. Warning him. Something was _very_ off about what was going on. And the one who was responsible was close, he could feel it…

" _How_ dare _you accuse me!_ " Fiona continued in an ear-piercing shriek. "Katey I can understand, but _you_?! I would've thought you'd known me better, Klaus Baudelaire!"

Klaus was quiet, apprehensive of attempting to put out _this_ fire. "…But…something doesn't feel right," he protested in a squeak. "I just know it."

"Drop the conspiracy bullshit, Klaus! You're just scaring _yourself_!" Fiona yelled, then turned around and walked back over to the bed to sit down. "I still can't _believe_ you'd accuse me!"

Guiltily, Klaus looked off to the side. …Maybe it _was_ nothing…but still, he had to tell Tadrey. That way, he could fix it…somehow. "I'm gonna go tell Tadrey about the wire," he decided after awhile, heading for the door.

Fiona rolled her eyes. "Fine," she sighed moodily. There was just no getting through to him. His mind was made up, and that was that. "But I want you to _drop it_ when you get back. Understand?"

Klaus opened his mouth to answer, but no words came out. "Yes…" he uttered finally, defeated. With that, he turned and headed out into the hallway.

* * *

/

* * *

With a stressed, tired moan, Fiona opened her eyes and blinked up at the ceiling. How long had she been asleep? She glanced at the clock. A couple hours? Wow. It felt like a couple minutes. She supposed that was to be expected from an adrenaline crash. She shook her head, replaying the argument from earlier. She couldn't believe it. Her own husband accusing _her_ of a conspiracy that wasn't even real. Now he'd really done it. Late night love was definitely off the table tonight. Distressed, she looked down at her stomach for answers. "Why does your father have to be an idiot?" she asked softly, rubbing it soothingly.

The bun in the oven remained silent. Either it too was in such stunned silence, or it was too early for a response. She growled in frustration, glaring back up at the ceiling. She couldn't wait a few more months for an answer. She needed to know what the hell was going on with him, what had him so on edge about a damn phone wire. Tadrey said they were old, maybe it frayed and broke off finally. Even with all the careful maintenance in the world, things were always bound to break eventually. She didn't know, and Klaus making a borderline schizophrenic assumption about it only made her stress worse. Katey was already doing good on that front, she didn't need _him_ adding to the pile.

Why was he being so erratic? She thought hard. Tadrey said the phones weren't working and he found a phone wire broken…okay. Everyone was antsy to get off the island after what happened with the plane. He'd lost his sister in a horrific way, sure. That's part of it. But there was _more_. The only way he could get this nervous about something was if he did something wrong. Suddenly, her eyes widened. What if _he_ did it, unable to cope with his sister's death, and he wanted everybody to suffer, at least in a nonviolent way, how he was suffering? He wouldn't do that…would he? And even by some crazy imagination if he _did_ want them to suffer in a horrific, violent way, he wouldn't do that…

… _Would_ he?!

Had he really gone off the deep end here? Had this traumatized him beyond repair? Especially after all _he'd_ been through in his life… Was this finally the breaking point? The point of no return? Had she lost her husband to psychosis? He was going to be a _father_ , for God's sake. She couldn't lose him _now_. Even though she wasn't afraid of single parenting, she preferred Klaus by her side helping, like any real father would do.

 _God, Fiona, get ahold of yourself!_ she chastised inwardly, shaking her head back into reality. _The conspiracy's not real! He's just traumatized over his sister! A little_ too _traumatized, but still… How could you entertain such a notion?_ Wonderful. Klaus had _her_ thinking about something that wasn't even real. Oh, the effect he had on her…

Why else could he be so on edge? Other than his sister? After some more thought, Fiona stiffened.

Isadora.

She was in the control room _with_ him, a place most people wouldn't dream of checking out for fun. Maybe something _did_ happen between them, and he was using the phone wire as a scapegoat to hide his guilt. It would be convincing enough, seeing as how Tadrey had brought up a problem with them earlier. And what if him "going to tell Tadrey about the phone wire" meant something else? Perhaps code for "going to hang with Isadora for awhile"? And by "hang", he really meant "fuck"? Her eyes narrowed. She wouldn't _dare_! _Not_ when he was going to be a father! She wouldn't _dare_ play _that_ dirty…

…Would she?

Fiona sprung up from the bed, her worst fears gnawing away at her heart. She had to find him. He _was_ right about one thing: something didn't feel right. And she was going to get to the bottom of it. But right as she was about to rip open the door, the room went dark and she let out a frightened gasp. What the–––?! What happened to the lights? There wasn't a storm outside harsh enough to knock the power out. Did Klaus need another excuse to run off again, seeing as how she'd caught on to him for the phone wire? He was going to get it now…

"Klaus?" Fiona called curtly, stomping out into the hall. It was unbelievably darker than their room, but that was mostly because it lacked a fireplace and a roaring fire within it. She shivered. The hall was also uncomfortably quiet for some reason. Sure, it was always quiet in their hallway, but this time was different, and not because the lights were out either. _What_ was going on? Another excuse not to just run off, but stay longer with her, too? _I couldn't find my way back, it was too dark,_ she could picture him whining. Her face flushed a bright red in anger. She couldn't take it anymore. Dark or not, he was coming back with her. "Klaus!" she shouted again furiously, storming down the hall.

Just then, there was an agonized scream from around the corner, making her jump out of her skin.

"Klaus?" Fiona hollered, sounding quite panicked this time. She darted to the end of the hallway and looked to find someone bolting toward her at top speed. "Klaus?" she said again, hoping it was him.

" _Fiona, run!_ " Klaus wailed, and though she couldn't see him, he sounded like he was in tears.

Shutting Pandora's Box for the time being, she hurried with him back to their room. Once inside, Klaus slammed the door closed and locked it, panting heavily.

"Where the hell were you?" Fiona asked, her adrenaline skyrocketing. "What's going on?"

Klaus kept panting. "D…Duncan…!" he breathed finally.

"What about Duncan?" Fiona asked.

"He's out there still!"

"Well, let him in," Fiona told him, reaching for the knob.

" _No!_ " Klaus cried, seizing her wrist. "Don't! There's something out there!"

Fiona just looked at him. "Klaus, there's a hundred people in this mansion, of _course_ something's out there!"

"No, you don't understand! There's a killer out there!"

"A killer…" Fiona repeated skeptically, fighting not to laugh. He was going _all out_ on this coverup, wasn't he?

"Yes, look!" Klaus pointed at his chest.

Fiona looked to find an extremely thick, dark line spreading across his white wifebeater. Puzzled, she pulled him over to the crackling fire and examined it closer. Sure enough, it was red. Her eyebrows rose, astonished.

"Oh my God you _are_ bleeding," she uttered faintly, mortified.

Klaus nodded, looking down at it, unable to believe it himself. "I barely got outta there alive," he breathed.

"Why, 'cause you were getting a little too handsy with Isadora?" Fiona inquired hotly all of a sudden, glaring at him. "You didn't know what "no" meant?"

Klaus flinched. By the eerie glow of the fire, she could see he was offended. " _What?_ "

"Is that why you had to "go tell Tadrey"?" Fiona seethed. "Is 'cause she was getting lonely after your little encounter in the control room?"

"I am _not_ cheating on you!" Klaus fumed. "Where did _that_ come from?"

"That's what it feels like to be accused of a conspiracy that _doesn't even exist_!"

"Oh, you're _really_ gonna go there, aren't you!?"

"Yeah, I am! You're gonna be a father here in a few months, and I'd like to make sure my husband is psychologically capable of handling it!"

"I _am_ capable of handling it!"

"Not with your schizophrenic paranoia you're not!"

"I'm _not_ paranoid!"

"Then what's with freaking out over the damn phone wire? If you weren't paranoid, you'd just tell him in the morning! Why now? It's a little fishy! See where I'm coming from?"

"Yeah! The _asylum_! Why else would you be accusing me of such a thing?!"

"I don't fucking know! I don't know _what_ the hell is going through your head since Violet died! You've been a basket case ever since, and that's not like you! Now _what_ are you hiding?! What did you do that was so terrible?!"

Klaus was silent, mostly to catch his breath from screaming. "I'm not hiding _anything_ ," he said much more calmly after a moment. "There's a killer out there, Fiona. You can think I'm a liar all you want, but if you don't believe me, go ahead. Go out there. See for yourself."

Fiona kept glaring at him. Fine…she'd humor him. Play his little game for once. She let go of his collar, stood up, and walked over to the door. "Can't _believe_ I'm doing this," she muttered, rolling her eyes. She unlocked the door and opened it. The hall was still dark and still quiet. But right at her feet were the brutally mutilated, bloody remains of a volunteer about their age. Fiona let out a scream, slamming it shut and locking it again. Never had she seen a puddle of blood so big. Never had she seen so many body parts in one place. Never had she seen such an abhorrent sight. She looked around at the wound on Klaus's chest, her heart pounding, fear now in her eyes.

"Believe me now?" Klaus asked quietly.


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: Shoutout to** _Zevoros_ **and** _Guest_ **for reviewing! Still rockin', my friends!  
**

 **.**

 ** _Zevoros_** _––– I'll leave you to your guessing, my friend. Let's see if you're right, or very,_ very _wrong. ;)_

 ** _Guest_** _––– Thanks! I'm trying to get caught up :) Let's see if you're right, or very,_ very _wrong ;)  
_

 **.**

 **Disclaimer:** **Me no own ASOUE.**

* * *

 _ **=======  
Chapter 7  
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* * *

A miraculous sight they thought they'd never see again, Klaus and Fiona watched the sleepless night fade into dawn, and they breathed a sigh of relief. Maybe they could relax a bit, grab a bite to eat real quick? The killer wouldn't dare make a move in broad daylight…

…Would they?

"Wow…look at that sunrise," Klaus said, leaning against the window, awestruck.

The reddest of skies was before him, as if the heavens were bleeding. He kept watching, and soon, some slight oranges and yellows appeared on the scene, turning the whole sky into an inferno as far as the eye could see. Though it was a breathtaking sight, it chilled him to the bone at the same time. Just the fact that the sky was replaying everything that happened yesterday, from the fire to the bloodshed, was just plain eerie. It was almost as if those who died were trying to communicate with those still alive, tell them, or even the killer, that they were watching, even if no one else was. And just that thought alone made him never want to sleep again.

"Sailors' warning…" Fiona said quietly, then turned and headed for the door.

"What?" Klaus looked around at her, puzzled.

To his relief, Fiona stopped and looked over her shoulder at him, squinting curiously, almost darkly. "You've never heard that phrase before?" she asked. "'Red skies at night, sailors' delight, red skies in the morning, sailors' warning'?"

"Oh…" Klaus said, understanding at once what she meant as he looked back out at the sky. Unfortunately, her clarification just made his anxiety worse.

"My stepfather _always_ paid attention to the sky whenever we were on land," Fiona said. "It's just a sea thing. I grew up with it."

Klaus nodded, acknowledging her words. Suddenly, his throat swelled shut. Were the fallen volunteers–––his sister–––giving him a warning of what was to come? He shuddered, hurrying over to the door, unable to take it anymore. "C'mon. Let's go get some breakfast," he said. "I'm starving."

"Wait! What about the killer?" Fiona asked.

Klaus shook his head. "No…something tells me they're done for now."

Fiona looked at him suspiciously. "How would you know that?"

"I…" Klaus just shrugged, shaking his head again. "I just know."

Fiona stared at him.

"What?"

"…Nothing," Fiona sighed finally, walking to the door. "Let's go."

Klaus gave her one final suspicious look before unlocking the door and peeking out. The hall was still dark, but thanks to the enormous windows along the wall, they could find their way no problem to the dining hall. Only one thing stood between them and breakfast…

"Oh, God!" Klaus said, jumping in surprise.

The severed parts of what was a volunteer still lie in front of their door, an abhorrent smell now wafting up into their noses. Klaus felt his stomach gurgle. Never had he smelled death before…wait, no…once. Once he had.

"You _forgot_ it was here?" Fiona asked, astonished.

"Apparently," Klaus choked, fighting not to throw up.

"I don't know about you, but _I'd_ definitely remember a _corpse_ being at _my_ door!" Fiona told him heatedly.

"Let's just go," Klaus urged her, plugging his nose and stepping over the rigor mortis-ridden remains. Fiona followed suit and they walked down the hall where she went to look for him and he ran to get away from the killer. Though the halls were a little dim due to the absence of Edison's invention, they still appeared untouched by murder. Nevertheless, they continued on with caution, just in case Klaus had assumed wrong about the killer's hours of operation. Their trek was a long one, but eventually, it paid off…just not in the way they'd imagined. They rounded another corner to where the elevators were, and were met with quite a sight.

"What the–––?!" Klaus gasped, his eyes wide.

Blood.

Everywhere.

Walls, floor, ceiling…

The whole corridor had become a horrifying Rorschach ink blot painting. But it didn't end there…

Body parts.

Everywhere.

Heads, arms, legs, internal organs…

The whole corridor had also become an uncomfortably silent graveyard. And they thought the smell was bad when they stepped out of their room…

"What the–––?!" Klaus choked again, gagging. "Wh…what _happened_?"

Fiona didn't say anything. She merely glanced at the gash on Klaus's chest, then back at the massacre. There was nothing _to_ say. It was just one of those things that had to be seen in order to understand. To get the full effect of what lie before them.

"Well, well, if it isn't Klaus and Kap'n Krunch," a voice sang from behind.

Jumping in surprise, Klaus and Fiona looked to find Katey strutting up to them smugly. "You two are up awful early."

" _You're_ up awful early," Fiona snarled.

"I _am_ , aren't I?" Katey agreed, then shrugged. "Then again, I always am. I've always been an early bird. Late to get to bed, early to get up. I don't need sleep as much as other people."

"And why would _that_ be, I wonder?" Fiona growled, folding her arms, though it sounded more like a statement.

"I've often wondered that myself," Katey admitted. "But I still can't figure it out." She passed by Klaus, copping a gratuitous feel along the way. Klaus let out a strangled, high-pitched yip, his face flushing redder than the hallway. Fiona looked at him, puzzled. She looked at Katey just in time to find her winking at Klaus, then she looked back at her husband, outraged. He may have been right about the killer…but he was a fucking _liar_ about cheating! Why would he be so jumpy about Katey just passing by and winking at him if he was so loyal, innocent? Fiona's heart picked up the pace, vengeance surging through her body. Her worst nightmare had come true–––he _was_ cheating. With who, she wasn't a hundred percent sure. But she _did_ narrow it down to two suspects. Isadora would have hell to pay for seducing her husband if it was her, but if it was Katey? She'd bring this whole _mansion_ down on her egotistical ass. It didn't matter _who_ was still inside when it happened…

"You guys going down for breakfast?" Katey asked, tipping her head curiously.

"We were, actually," Fiona said, squinting at her suspiciously.

"Well, let's go then," Katey nodded her head down the hall. "I'm _not_ gonna be left with the scraps, _that's_ for sure," she added firmly, squinting ominously at Fiona. She turned and flounced past the carnage without so much as a gawk. Klaus's eyes bulged at her reaction. Katey kept walking as if nothing were there, like it was just a figment of his twisted, paranoid imagination. Klaus looked down nervously at his chest, then back up at Katey, then at Fiona, who made a bark-like snort as she watched Katey hurry off in the direction of her objective. "You won't _need_ scraps after _I'm_ done with you," she muttered.

"Huh?" Klaus asked.

"Nothing. Just talking to myself," Fiona said dismissively, shaking her head. "C'mon, let's go." The two resumed walking, hurrying as fast as they could past the bodies.

* * *

/

* * *

Munching on a piece of bacon, Isadora closely watched Quigley, who was sitting across the table from her in complete silence. For some odd reason, he had his sweatshirt hood up over his head and was staring intensely at the center of the table, as if it would disappear if he looked away. Isadora tipped her head, both curious and concerned. Quigley was always full of life, full of things to say, and even if he didn't feel like talking, he wouldn't have his hood up and be staring like a madman at the center of the table. His behavior was creepy, downright chilling, and she had to find out why. Judging by his actions, he was unlikely to tell her what was bothering him, so a little more studying would have to suffice if she wanted answers. After a little more observation, she noticed a few small scratches on his hands, as well as multiple dark brown smudges. Quigley had hurt himself–––that was old blood on his hands. She'd know that sight anywhere. But how? What happened to him?

"Are you alright?" Isadora asked at last. Even with all of her detective work, only a response from him would truly solve the mystery.

Quigley didn't move, didn't look up at her.

"What happened to your hands?"

Quigley was quiet.

"Quigley?" Isadora's eyebrows rose, worried.

Quigley kept staring at the table.

Just then, the dining room doors creaked open and in walked a red-eyed Duncan. Noticing both of his siblings at the table this early, he flinched. "Morning, guys," he said, walking over to them. "What are you two doing up this early?"

Isadora looked at him. "Eating breakfast," she said. "I couldn't sleep. Not after what happened yesterday."

"Same here," Duncan said, then looked at Quigley. "What are you doing up, Quigley? Couldn't sleep either?"

Quigley remained silent.

"Quigley?" Duncan tried again.

"He hasn't been answering me either, so don't feel bad," Isadora advised him, taking a bite of scrambled eggs. "Grab a plate, come sit down."

Duncan did as told, only when he came back, he sat next to Quigley instead of Isadora. After a few bites of his selections, he looked over at Quigley, determined to get a response out of him. "Why are _you_ so quiet this morning?" he asked. "You're never quiet. What's going on?"

Quigley didn't say anything, didn't move in the slightest.

"You don't have to get into details, just say what's going on," Duncan said. "We're worried about you."

Quigley merely stared at the table.

Duncan looked at Isadora, tired of playing mind-reader. "What is his problem?" he asked, frustrated.

Isadora shrugged. "He's been like that ever since I walked in and grabbed something to eat," she replied. "God knows how long he's been in here. I can't get him to say anything. I can't even get him to eat breakfast."

"Yeah, well, it's creeping me out." Duncan glanced at the other end of the table where Tadrey sat. Did he know about what happened last night? It was unnerving enough that he saw that unspeakable sight in the hallway, he didn't need Quigley to make his anxiety worse. "Did you see what happened last night?"

"See what?" Isadora asked.

Duncan's eyebrows rose, astonished. "You didn't _see_ what happened?" he gasped.

Isadora flinched at his reaction. "No…what?" she said slowly, wondering what had him in hysterics all of a sudden.

"People were _murdered_!" Duncan cried. "You didn't hear them screaming?"

"No," Isadora shook her head. "Where were they killed? What time?"

"In the North Wing. At one thirty-seven in the morning."

"Oh, no, I was asleep. And even if I was awake, I still couldn't hear them. My dorm's on the other side of the mansion."

"Seriously, Isadora, you should've seen it: body parts were all _over_ the place! I saw someone's small intestine stretching a mile down the–––"

"Okay!" Isadora said with a shudder, holding her hands up for him to stop. "Duncan, I'm _eating_!"

"How can you eat when there's a _killer_ in this place?!" Duncan demanded crazily, slamming his hands on the table. "They could be _anywhere_ right now, waiting to kill _us_! And you think this is a time for _breakfast_?!"

Isadora looked down at his plate, then back up at him. " _You're_ one to talk," she snorted.

" _You're_ the one who told me to get breakfast!" Duncan said at once.

"You didn't _have_ to do it! Quigley didn't!" Isadora pointed out.

Duncan growled, rolling his eyes. "My point is, we can't get _too_ comfy. Who knows when the killer will strike again?"

"You sound like you know," Quigley said quietly.

Duncan and Isadora's eyes widened as they looked at him. The first words he'd spoken all morning. And they were directed at his older brother, who was explaining in detail about what happened last night.

"Excuse me?" Duncan huffed.

Quigley looked up from the table at him, that blood-chilling look still in his eyes. "I said you sound like you _know_ when the killer will strike again," he repeated, his voice raspy and dark.

Duncan flinched. "Are you saying _I'm_ the killer?" he yelled, appalled at his brother's nerve. "Because you're _wrong_! I saw him with my own eyes! He looked back at me and I ran for my life!"

"I saw him looking back at me, too," Quigley said, a demented, knowing smile now on his face. "And you were _exactly_ right about the time he killed those people."

Duncan shivered, taking a daring glance at Isadora, his heart racing. "Uh…" he stuttered, not knowing what to say. But he wasn't alone. Isadora was staring at Quigley too, just as floored at his reaction.

"What did he look like?" Isadora asked. "That way we can be on the lookout."

"He was in a long black robe with his hood up, wearing an all-white theater mask. No faces, no cutouts on it, nothing. Just a blank white theater mask. And he killed those people with a machete."

"He's riiiiiight," Quigley sang, glancing at both of them, that demented smile still on his face.

They looked at him, obviously disturbed by his reaction. With a shudder, Isadora carried on the conversation. "How can they even see where they're going if there's no holes or cutouts in the mask?"

"I don't know, Isadora, I didn't ask him," Duncan shot back irritably. "I was too busy _running for my life_!"

Suddenly, the dining room doors flung open again. The Quagmires looked to find Katey strutting inside, followed by Klaus and Fiona. Duncan and Isadora flinched. Everybody in their circle was up at this hour? That was odd…

"Morning, guys. You're up early," Duncan said with a puzzled look.

"So are you, cutie," Katey replied with a wink, heading over to the breakfast table to make a plate.

Duncan made a sheepish drawl-like noise, grinning down at the table. "I couldn't sleep," he said, blushing. "Not after what happened last night."

"Oh, thank God you're okay, Duncan," Klaus sighed, relieved as he got in line behind Katey, followed by Fiona. "I'm sorry I couldn't help you out last night. The killer was literally on my tail."

"Oh, it's…fine," Duncan said, feeling betrayed. Klaus, like his sisters, would always sacrifice his well-being for him and his siblings. Why he suddenly left him for dead to save his own skin was beyond him.

"Are you talking about what we think you're talking about?" Fiona asked.

"What, the murders?" Duncan said.

"Yeah! Did you see the hallway?" Klaus asked breathlessly.

"Uh… _yeah_. I was there," Duncan said, his feelings of betrayal manifesting into an obvious expression of anger. "Intestines were stretched out a mile long down the hallway."

"I saw a severed head with their eyes gouged out," Katey added, walking over and sitting next to Duncan. "Impeccable work, I might add," she muttered to him, reaching down and cupping his behind in her hand with a wink.

Duncan chuckled halfheartedly, looking back down at the table, this time with worry-stricken eyes. Should he have done that last night? Someone was _bound_ to find out about it…

"Again…I'm _eating_ ," Isadora piped up testily, shooting her a disgusted glare. She looked at Klaus, who took a seat next to her. "Oh my God, what happened to you?!" she cried, her eyes bulging at the wound on his chest.

Everyone looked at Klaus, taking in his battle scar. To her astonishment, no one flinched or freaked out. They all stared at him as if it were old news.

"Yeah, I saw that," Katey said guiltily, picking at her eggs.

"He showed me last night when he came to bed," Fiona said simply, taking a bite of sausage.

"I was _there_. I _saw_ him get cut," Duncan said tightly.

"So was I," Quigley said quietly, looking back down at the table again. That psychotic smile was finally off his face, to Duncan and Isadora's relief.

"How come I'm the only one who doesn't know about this?" Isadora asked, feeling out of the loop.

"You've been shut in your room the whole time we got here," Duncan told her. "In fact, _I_ had to come get you for dinner last night. …Look, Isadora, I know you're shy, but you can't just stay in your room the whole time. There's so much to see and do out here." He gave her a scolding, father-like look.

"Not anymore," Isadora protested, shaking her head. "Not since the killer struck last night. All the more reason to stay _in_ our rooms."

There was a pause as everyone filled their faces. "Has anyone seen Edison?" Klaus asked, looking around. "I haven't seen him since he came back from the landing strip."

Everyone shrugged, except for Quigley, who looked off to the side.

"Same here," Isadora replied.

"Yeah, same," Duncan said, Katey and Fiona nodding.

"Huh…" Klaus shook his head, thinking. "Hope he's alright."

"Yeah…" everyone agreed.

More eating. "But, y'know, now that I think about it, maybe he _wouldn't_ have got cut if he would've just waited 'til morning to "tell Tadrey about the phone wire"," Fiona said, squinting suspiciously at Klaus.

Klaus looked at her, revolted. "What are you saying?" he asked.

"What were you _really_ doing last night, honey?" Fiona inquired.

Klaus held out his hands in shock, looking around the table. "Going to tell Tadrey about the phone wire!" he insisted defensively.

"Oh really?" Fiona asked, her tone light and sarcastic.

"Yes!"

"Why are you so defensive then?"

"Because my wife doesn't believe me and I'm getting tired of it!" Klaus snapped angrily.

Fiona's eyes looked off to the side, thinking. "I see," she said, then scowled at Katey.

"What?" Katey said, flinching.

"You know what," Fiona hissed.

"Um, no I don't," Katey said, shaking her head, looking at Fiona like she was stupid.

"And don't think you're out of this too, missy!" Fiona spat, leaning forward to shoot daggers at Isadora.

Isadora flinched, blindsided by her sudden attack. "What?" she said softly, trying to wrap her head around what was going on.

"Oh, never mind," Katey declared dramatically, rolling her eyes. "I know _exactly_ what your problem is…"

"Well, could you please tell me?" Isadora asked Katey, her innocent brown eyes quite shaken. "I don't understand."

Katey looked over at Isadora with a smirk. "Little Miss Possessive over here thinks her husband's cheating on her and thinks it's one of us," she explained with a nod at Fiona.

Offended, Isadora leaned forward to gawk at her accuser. "I did _not_ sleep with your husband!" she yelled.

"Then what were you two doing in the control room?" Fiona demanded. " _Alone?_ "

"The doorknob was missing and the frame was scuffed!" Isadora said hotly. "That's not normal, so I decided to check it out. Klaus turned around and saw me, wondering why I wasn't heading to my room, and he checked it out with me! I didn't tell him to, he just followed me in!"

"Why was he wondering why you weren't headed to your room, I wonder?" Fiona said, then looked at Klaus in triumph.

"Probably because something odd had my attention! It's a little hard to go to your room if you're preoccupied by something!"

"What about the phone wire? Is it new V.F.D. code to go screw someone? Because that's all he talked about late last night was a phone wire and he didn't come back for awhile."

"Yeah, what is it about this phone wire?" Duncan said, shifting in his seat. Klaus did the same, looking down at the table.

"Klaus found a phone wire that had been cut under a console," Isadora said. "He was worried it was sabotage because Tadrey takes good care of everything around here, and after what happened with the plane yesterday, everybody was traumatized and wanted to get out of here. If something prevented that after such a catastrophe, then obviously somebody didn't want us to leave. And since the enemy doesn't _know_ about Maidenly Manor's location, then it must've been sabotage by one of our own."

"You sound like you know a lot," Fiona said with a sneaky smile. "Only the killer would know _that_."

"Not necessarily," Quigley said, then slowly looked up at her, his demented eyes piercing hers. "Usually the killer _accuses_. Never _tells_ the truth." Just then, he smiled demonically. "I was there. She's telling the truth."

"You weren't there," Isadora told him, she and Klaus looking at him funny. "We never saw you."

"Was I?" The gleam in Quigley's eye worsened. He looked back at Fiona.

Fiona shifted in her seat, beginning to sweat as all eyes fell on her. "Quit looking at me like that, Quigley. It's creepy."

"Y'know, I have to take Isadora's side on this one," Katey said after another bite of scrambled eggs. "She's telling the truth. I just know."

"And how would _you_ just "know"?" Fiona snarled.

"I was there, too."

"What? _You_ were there, too?" Klaus's eyebrows rose. "We didn't see you, either. Besides, you left the chapel long before we did. You should've been in your room by the time Isadora and I left, judging by the route you always take. It would take time to come all the way back to the control room from your room, and by the time you would've got there, we would've already left."

Katey smiled slyly. "How do you know what route I take to get to my room, Klaus?" she asked. "Killers have _everything_ planned out, even the most minute of details…"

"I'm not the killer!" Klaus protested.

"Kidding, just kidding," Katey told him coolly. "No, I think it was because you were stalking me. Maybe because you were a little lonely? Overtaken by a forbidden lust for something you can't have?" Here, she looked him up and down hungrily.

Klaus blushed furiously.

"Because you're a fucking _liar_?" Fiona offered heatedly, her eyes narrowing dangerously at him.

"I'm _not_ cheating on you!" Klaus screamed furiously.

"You're right about the killer, but you're a fucking _liar_ about cheating!" Fiona screamed back at him, now on her feet. "You better get your act together, Klaus Baudelaire, because you're gonna be a father in a few months, and I'm _not_ dealing with this bullshit anymore! Your actions affect others, and I'd hate to have others pay for what _you've_ done!"

Suddenly, the doors opened and in walked Tadrey, mopping his sword blade up and down with a rag. Though the distance between the doors and the long dining room table was great, all of them could see that the white rag was stained with red blotches. And if he was cleaning his _sword blade_ with it…

Tadrey, who was too preoccupied cleaning to even hear the arguing, looked up and jumped at the sight of them. "Oh…good morning everyone," he said with a warm smile. "Up awful early, I see. Did you sleep well?"

The whole table shook their heads. "Not after what happened last night," Duncan said.

Tadrey nodded in understanding. "I see." He walked around the table and up to his spot at the far end of it. "I'm so sorry about yesterday, you guys. The plane accident took more than just lives it seems."

The table looked at each other. "Oh, no, we were talking about the murders," Duncan clarified.

Tadrey stopped cold and looked over his shoulder at them, his eyes grave. "The murders?" he repeated, unable to believe what Duncan said.

"You…didn't hear the screaming last night?" Duncan's eyebrows rose in surprise.

"I…guess not." Tadrey looked at the wall for a moment, then resumed walking. "I was sleeping."

"Where's your room at?" Klaus asked.

"North Wing," Tadrey said.

The table shared a bewildered glance. "That's where those volunteers where murdered!" Duncan gasped. "How could you _not_ hear them?"

"I'm a heavy sleeper," Tadrey shrugged. He slid his sword back into its sheath and tucked the rag inside his white blazer pocket. "Would you mind showing me what happened?" he requested, concerned. "I don't want anyone else to get hurt."

"Sure. Follow me," Duncan said, getting up from the table. Everyone discarded their scraps, set their dirty dishes in a bin for the kitchen staff to wash, and followed Duncan through the doors and down the hall quickly. The manor was uncomfortably silent, an aura of menace hanging in the air like an invisible and heavy, malicious fog. What once was a safe place, what once was where the world was quiet, was no more. And worse…

It was by the hand of one of their own…

They pressed on, keeping their eyes peeled for any more clues as to where the killer might be lurking, where they might attack next, who they might attack next. This kept up for quite a walk, until a scream came from just above their heads. Their hearts racing, Tadrey and everyone booked it before it was too late. No one else was going to lose their life today. Over to the stairs they went––– _  
_

Isadora let out a scream, Tadrey's eyes widening with a gasp. They were lucky to have not laid eyes on what had befallen the fallen last night. But now, just like the others, their luck had run out. Before them was a man about their age, bloodied and limbless, hanging by his neck from the rail of the staircase above them. But he wasn't hanging by an average rope–––he was hanging by a rope of bloody intestines.

"Bob," Tadrey whispered hoarsely, then shook his head, unable to believe it. A childhood friend of his, who'd majored in combat and self-defense, had been torn to pieces and displayed for the world to see how horribly he'd failed. Suddenly, there was a _thud!_ , and everyone looked to find Isadora out cold on the floor.

"Isadora!" Klaus cried, rushing over to her as Tadrey dashed up the stairs. Gingerly, Klaus picked her up, then he and the others hurried up after him.

A flock of volunteers had gathered around to take in the sight, murmuring fearfully amongst themselves.

"Tadrey! What happened?" one volunteer cried.

"We're under attack!" another one hollered crazily. "The enemy has found us!"

"The enemy _didn't_ find us," Klaus corrected him, beginning to sweat. "It's worse: one of our own did it!"

The volunteers' panic amplified as they looked all around them wildly, like deer who knew they were being hunted.

"What are we gonna do?" a third volunteer screamed.

"Get the combat majors up here!" a fourth one suggested fretfully. "They can patrol the mansion and protect us until the killer's caught!"

"No need," Tadrey said quietly after a minute, shaking his head as he examined the various body parts scattered up and down the corridor. "All of 'em are here…"


End file.
